


One Hundred And One Things

by JTxBojan



Category: One Direction, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 18:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JTxBojan/pseuds/JTxBojan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One hundred and one things. There are one hundred and one things about Harry that you know. And when you get the chance to lie next to Harry and just watch him sleep in the soft glow of the moonlight shining through the window, you go over every little thing in your head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Hundred And One Things

**Author's Note:**

> This popped into my head and I just couldn't help myself. It's pure fluff re-posted from my Tumblr.

One hundred and one things. There are one hundred and one things about Harry that you know. And when you get the chance to lie next to Harry and just watch him sleep in the soft glow of the moonlight shining through the window, you go over every little thing in your head.

His eyes are green. Sometimes, in the right light, his eyes can look blue. But they’re not. No, Harry’s eyes are green. And deep. Deep enough for you to practically swim in them.

He doesn’t like vacuum cleaners. He doesn’t like the way they always seem to wrap themselves around him when he cleans or the way he always ends up stumbling over them.

“ _They’re trying to kill me!_ ” Harry will say, and then he will frown, and you won’t be able to hold back a laugh. 

His frown is adorable. His brows always furrows slightly upwards when he frowns, and it makes him look sad at the same time as it makes him look annoyed.

His hair tends to stand up more on the left side of his head in the morning, which is strange, because Harry usually sleeps with the right side of his head pressed down into the pillow. 

Harry despises the sound of glasses getting shattered. It makes him shudder and cover his ears in discomfort.

He pretends to hate it when you tickle him. 

“ _Stop it, Louis!_ ” He always squeals, but he doesn’t want you to stop. You know he doesn’t. So you never do.

He would never tell anyone, but he’s great at drawing. He likes to sit in his window at night and draw the city outside. He shows you his drawings sometimes.

He blushes when you compliment him. No matter how many times you tell him how beautiful you think he is, he always blushes.

He likes to cover his “extra nipples” when you undress him. They make him shy. 

“ _I look weird._ ” He will say, and you will shake your head and tell him he looks perfect. He never believes you, but he thanks you when you tell him that.

His bellybutton pokes in, and he squirms when you push your tongue inside of it.

Kittens are his favourite animal. He used to have a kitten as his best friend when he was five. He’d take the leftovers of his dinner outside and feed them to the kitten. His mother didn’t like it, but the kitten meant a lot to Harry, so she always let it slide.

He’s really close to his family. They mean everything to him.

He loves it when you kiss him on the back of his neck, just where his neck meets his right shoulder. 

He sings in the shower, and when you tell him to stop, he only sings louder to annoy you.

He dances around in his boxers every Saturday morning. He hates cooking. He can’t tie ties.

He worries too much. About everything. He constantly needs you to reassure him. But it’s okay, because you don’t mind it.

It upsets him when the fans talk badly of him. He tries to act like their opinion doesn’t affect him, but it does. 

He pulls at your hair sometimes, and tells you to grow your hair long, so he can beg you to let him make pigtails. 

When he’s sad, he gets quiet and he likes to be left alone. He punches the wall when he gets mad.

He likes to write stories. About you and him, travelling the globe, visiting all of the places that seem so perfect to him in his mind.

He has an entire universe inside his head. He cries when he gets frustrated, when he can’t figure things out. When everything starts to get crazy inside his head. 

“ _Make me understand._ ” He whispers to you when he can’t understand things on his own. And you always try your best to do just that.

He chews at the ends of his sweaters, and he sucks at the strings on his hoodies. He likes to eat his clothes. Sometimes, he likes to eat yours too.

He trembles when you press against his back and let one of your hands reach around him and run down his stomach. He gasps whenever you touch his cock.

His favourite colour is blue. He doesn’t like his own hands. He tears up whenever he watches “Titanic”, and he loves watching horror movies. His favourite actor is still Heath Ledger, and his favourite movie is “The Dark Knight”. 

It’s impossible for him to sleep without a blanket or duvet covering him, even in the summer when it’s boiling hot. He hates having cold feet, and often pushes them against your calves in the winter to get warm. 

He wanted to become a fireman when he was growing up. He thinks Bigfoot is real, and sometimes, when he’s had a really long day, he gets scared of the dark.

He won’t take showers without you, and he loves it when you pull him into small bathrooms while you’re out doing interviews or something and push him against the wall and kiss him. 

There’s a constant love bite at the very base of his spine.

“ _It’s fading, Boo-Bear._ ” He’ll complain, and won’t stop until you’ve refreshed it.

When he’s bored, he sometimes goes into the bathroom and straightens his hair.

He loves making people laugh. He sees beauty in every single human being. He doesn’t believe in horoscopes, and he hates it when you crack your knuckles.

He also hates it when you call him “babe”.

“ _I sound like a 13 year old girl!_ ”

He loves going to the beach. He’s fascinated by Lionel Messi. He can’t handle alcohol too well. He gets horny when he gets drunk. 

Sometimes he tells you he wants to save you. That sometimes you wear a sad smile.

He has a secret place, back home in Cheshire. He wants to take you there sometime.

He gets jealous of Zayn whenever he watches the “One Thing” video, and Zayn leans his chin on your shoulder. He growls whenever he has to watch somebody else touch you. 

It happens rarely, but sometimes he gets aggressive and he spends the entire night marking you all over your body, so you will have no doubts about who you belong to in the morning.

He whimpers when you pinch his nipples, but he likes it too. He likes the slight pain. He likes wearing your clothes, and he absolutely loves it when you take off his clothes by using your teeth.

He blushes when you creep up behind him and whisper “I love you” into his ear. He giggles when you stroke the insides of his thighs. He scratches at your skin when he gets desperate.

He likes watching tennis, and his favourite player is Novak Djokovic. He gets sexually frustrated when he goes three days without having you touch him in some way.

He tastes like oranges. And he constantly smells like mango. His skin feels like silk. 

He likes to bury his face in the crook of your neck. He tells you it makes him feel safe.

His eyes flutter when he dreams, and when he has a nightmare, he whimpers and curls up into a ball, trying to hide from the frightening images inside his head.

He’s a very technical guy. He likes to fix stuff. He’s good with his hands – both in and out of the bedroom.

He loves being out in the snow. His cheeks get red when it’s cold out. He has a dirty mind. He can turn everything you say into something sexual. 

He can’t stand telemarketers. He enjoys making prank calls. He has a very sensitive spot on his left collarbone. 

Most people know him as such a careless, kind of thick guy. But he’s not. He’s really smart, and he has the ability to be very gentle. He hides his true self because he doesn’t want to seem weak or vulnerable, and you are the only one who is allowed to see who he really is, behind the goofy mask.

He tells you about his dreams. Sometimes he even sings them to you. And at times, when the celebrity life is getting really tiresome, he will lay curled up against you with his face pressed into your neck.

“ _One day, we will run away. To a place where it will be just the two of us and nobody will ever find us again. Just you and me._ ” He’ll whisper. And you will smile.

When he sings, he will sometimes glance over at you, and you will know that he’s dedicating the words flowing so delicately out of his mouth to you without actually telling you.

He likes going for long walks when it’s dark out. He enjoys flirting with you on Twitter, publically displaying his affection for you without people actually understanding it. 

He remembers your anniversaries. And he randomly gives you roses, one for each day you have been together. You realise you’re going to end up having no room for them all when you’ve been together for many years.

He asks you to tell him your secrets, and he loves listening to the sound of your voice, whether you’re singing or just talking. And when he gets scared, regardless of why, he’ll come to you.

“ _Soothe me._ ” He’ll whisper. And so you do.

And finally, he talks in his sleep, trying to explain things. Trying to make sense of the images he sees when he’s dreaming, deep inside his own universe. And you will listen. Like you always do.

In the dead of the night, with only the soft glow from the moonlight lighting up the room, you lay silently next to Harry and you watch him. 

He’s growing up. He’s changing. Becoming a new man, a grown man. But you know that some things are never going to change. Like those one hundred and one things.

And you take a snapshot of Harry’s perfect sleeping form in your head. You allow yourself to focus on his long lashes, his full lips and his beautiful curls as he sleeps, inside his own universe.

You know Harry. You know everything about him. You know all the ways to make him smile, all the ways to make him laugh. You know when he wants to be held, when he wants to be touched, when he wants to be kissed. You know everything. Every single inch of him. Every single, little thing.

And you take every little thing, memorizing it and filing it into the scrapbook you’ve made inside your head. A scrapbook of the one hundred and one things you know _**love**_ about Harry.


End file.
